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sharp penknife, holding it up as she whirled around.
    She gasped aloud in disbelief at the image that greeted her. Will Denton sat on the floor, where he had emerged from under her bed. His red coat was gone, replaced by a rough black wool jacket and a knitted cap over his golden hair.
    Eliza was certain she must be dreaming. Her obsessive thoughts had surely conjured him up out of nothing! He couldn't be here in her bedchamber.
    But the bite of the knife handle against her palm was all too real. As was the smile he gave her as he swung lightly to his feet It was a wide, almost piratical grin, just like the ones he used to flash when they carried off some youthful mischief.
    But they were not so young now. And mischief could surely be deadly.
    "So, Eliza my dear," he said. "You think me handsome?"
     
    Chapter 3
    Eliza, leaned back against the drawer, staring at Will in half-comprehending shock.
    He took a step closer, and she waved the knife about "How did you get in here?" she demanded, cursing that quiver in her voice. This was no time to let her fear show, to be vulnerable. Once, Will had known her all too well. The glint in his blue-green eyes said he surely could again.
    He held out his hands as if in surrender, but Eliza knew better than to be fooled. He had been nearly eight years in the British Army now; surely he had been taught to never surrender.
    "Nothing easier, I fear, Eliza," he said affably. "You should have more care with your house. Such a fine dwelling is a tempting target for villains."
    "So I see. What did you do, then, bribe my servants?"
    "I didn't have to go to such trouble. I climbed the ivy vines that cling to those columns outside your portico. You've neglected them too long, and they're prodigiously thick. Any thief could have made off with your jewels and plate by now." He gestured toward her grandmother's diamonds in the open case on her dressing table.
    Despite herself, Eliza felt a grudging admiration thinking of Will climbing those vines. Thinking of the powerful shift of his muscles under that rough wool. His years in the hot islands had obviously not weakened him, as they did some men.
    "I have had too many things to think of to remember to cut back the vines," she said.
    "So I've heard:'
    "What? Are you a Castle spy now, too, Major Denton? In the pay of Lord Camden?"
    "Don't be ridiculous, Eliza."
    "Am I being ridiculous? I hear tell that spies and informants are everywhere in Dublin these days. That we should not trust our servants or our own families."
    "You can trust me."
    "Can I?" She studied him carefully, his elegant, handsome face outlined by the flickering candlelight. He looked hardened, darkened by that island sun, by whatever he had seen there. Or by whatever he had come here to do.
    His regiment, the Thirteenth, had a reputation for ruthless adherence to duty and fierce loyalty to the Crown. That was certainly why they were here in Ireland now—to stamp out the fires of dissent by whatever means necessary.
    Was the old Will under there somewhere? Was her laughing, lighthearted friend hidden beneath the uniform?
    She wanted to drop the knife, to run into his arms and hold him so tightly he could never escape her again. To feel his lips on hers again and meet him as a woman now and not a foolish girl.
    But even as tears pricked at her eyes, she knew she could not He was her enemy now, and she would not sacrifice her work, the freedom of a whole country, for lust
    "We cannot trust anyone these days," she said, thinking of the brittle, frantic fear that overhung all of Dublin like a smoky pall. "Why have you come here, Will?"
    "I don't think I can speak rationally with a knife pointed at me," he answered. "Even if it if a penknife."
    Eliza glanced down at the blade in her hand, half surprised she still held it It was a puny thing, and he could surely wrest it from her in an instant
    "I merely came to return this" he said, holding out the fan she lost at the assembly. "That is all.